


Accidentally trading homework for PE.

by Sphye



Category: Eldemore
Genre: because I //will// fight the birdman, self indulgent fic about badgering people over how to fight Sorren without dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphye/pseuds/Sphye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you really want to fight someone, but that someone is a trained assassin and you'd rather not die? Badger his husband about how to not get killed, probably. No? Well, that's what we're doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidentally trading homework for PE.

The wood floor was cold against the Sealer's back. They lay beneath the table, staring up at the underside of the sturdy piece of furniture with their arms crossed over their chest.  
So maybe they'd gotten a handful of questions wrong yesterday. They highly doubted that most people would be able to correctly name the year of the publication of "Accomplishments of Selle Grendist" or what the first battle of this-or-that leader was. Being given an entire week's worth of reading on just those topics felt so obsolete. As a result, they'd taken to hiding instead of doing what they were supposed to. A+ use of their time, if you asked them.

The Sealer heard footsteps in the other room, and froze their fidgeting. It wasn't like they were especially out-of-sight unless you just didn't look down, but for fear of even _more_ esoteric homework, they stayed still anyway.

The boots that came into view weren't those of bird-dad. The Sealer gave an audible sigh of relief, only thinking a moment later that that wouldn't help them stay very hidden. The bootsteps stopped, and while they couldn't see the glass smith's face from where they lay, they guessed that they weren't particularly invisible hiding under furniture as they were.  
"Found you," Willy said with subdued playfulness, crouching down so that his face was in view. He grasped the edge of the table for balance, crouching on the balls of his feet.  
"Something wrong, polliwog?" he questioned gently.  
“I'm gonna fight Sorren," they responded flatly, watching Willy cringe as Fiore stepped from the top of the table onto his shoulders with no regard for keeping his clothes or skin un-clawed.  
"You sure 'bout that?" the bearded father-figure asked, halfway between a laugh and continuing to cringe at the claws of the feline using him as a vantage point. "He may be a scrawny thing," he chuckled, and the Sealer could've sworn that they saw the faintest trace of a blush, "but he ain't exactly a kitten. I dunno where I'd even look for the body of the last person who tried ta start a skirmish with him!" he said, probably more loudly than necessary. Geesh, that wasn't something you'd want an authority figure to hear.

"So," they badgered, "If I absolutely _needed_ a way to fight Sorren without dying, assuming it were absolutely vital to my well-being that I got to do that..." they trailed off, grinning hopefully at their adoptive guardian.  
Willy sighed, the corners of his mouth upturned despite his (quite possibly fake) defeated slouch.

"I don't know why you _have_ to fight," he began, concealing a laugh. "But if you want to not die, ya'd probably want to make that clear from the get-go." He paused, letting Fiore climb from his shoulders to his lap with some cringe-worthy sounds of claws caught on clothes and hopefully nothing more. "D'you have _any_ experience in fighting?" he asked, to which the Sealer could only open and close their mouth in embarrassment. "Right. So, your first step is gettin' that experience. Not that there's anything wrong with just goin' and deckin' somebody or another outside a tavern," he said, sparking a twinge of curiosity as to whether those words were from experience themselves, "But you'd be best off gettin' some real training. 'Sides, if you're training he won't seriously maim or kill you, probably," the ex-pirate laughed.

The Sealer wasn't sure they wanted to ask how sure he was of that.

There was a moment of silence, then another. "...How would I go about asking for fight lessons, hypothetically?" they asked, cocking their head in what they hoped was an endearing manner.

"Fer starters, don't call 'em 'fight lessons'," he suggested, raising an eyebrow. "Sorren gets pretty busy, what with his, er, duties. Tasks," Willy said, fishing for the right words. "Yer gonna have to make sure you sound serious, and even then, maybe he won't go fer it. 'Self defense' would be better, though."

"So if I tell Sorren that I want him to teach me self defense I can fight him?"

"Well," Willy shrugged, "he might just delegate that to someone else at first. How's about this: I get you started so that he doesn't mop the floor with you, and then we can try to get him to teach you?"

The Sealer thought for a moment. It wasn't quite so quick a solution as they'd have liked, but then again, it couldn't be worse than the other plans Willy'd had them do before.  
_I probably still have some scars from that first Yuletide,_ they mused, rubbing the back of their neck.

"...That sounds fair," they agreed, hesitating for little more than a moment. It would be worth it. Not dying definitely sounded worth a little training.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ _That sounds fair_ , I said, _it’ll be fine_ , I said,” the Sealer grumbled.

The past four days had been filled with being put in headlocks, practicing stances, and, most abhorable of all, so much conditioning. The Sealer never wanted to have to do another pushup again.

“Good job!” Willy shouted, his enthusiasm less welcome than a knife to their gut currently. “Fifteen situps next!”

“Willyyy,” they groaned, “Are you positive that this is self defense? It feel more like self-destroying-every-cell-in-my-body.”

“Aww, don’t be like that,” he said, pretending to pout despite his badly-hidden amusement. “This’ll show Sorren that you’re serious about training. You wanna get his attention, right?”

A few thoughts along the lines of “ _not as much as you do, you thirsty sadist_ ” crossed their mind. They decided that they valued their own well-being enough not to say that out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's how the Sealer got buff.


End file.
